


seventh... "son"

by Xaizar



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Magic, dont know how to tag this one., seventh son - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaizar/pseuds/Xaizar
Summary: Verstael Besithia had six older brothers and an inferiority complex the size of the moon.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Cor Leonis
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	seventh... "son"

**Author's Note:**

> yeah. very quick concept thing.

Verstael Besithia had six older brothers and an inferiority complex the size of the moon. 

Not strong enough for sports. Not quick-witted enough for politicking. Not devoted enough to be an acolyte. Not smart enough for academia; not dull enough for line work; not kind enough for medicine.

He chose biology, more for the novelty than any real interest, but soon, learned of, and joined, the new frontiers in the softer science, and resolved to do something no one had ever done before.

* * *

Ramuh looked down at the child, still suspended in an imitation amniotic fluid. Close enough, they’d decided.

He touched the boy’s forehead—metaphysically, of course.

How did Bahamut do these, again? They were supposed to rhyme, he thought. He was sure he’d heard a good few prophecies that rhymed. 

“Seventh son of seventh son, 

your power will only grow.

Take my blessing here and now,

and you shall have no equal foe.”

Yes, that sounded appropriately dramatic.

* * *

“Fuck,” said Cor Leonis. 

So many children, babies, labelled one to a hundred to who knew how many, and he could only, maybe, take one.

An alarm blared. He grabbed a boy at random and sprinted for an exit.

He almost had a system down, nowadays. Wake up. Mash whatever food he had into a paste. Coax the kid into eating it. Swaddle him into the makeshift sling of the stolen blanket, run as far towards Lucis as he could before night, and sleep in a haven. Repeat. 

Except this time, the damn map had lied, and he was in the middle of fucking nowhere and the sun was touching the horizon, threatening to abandon them with each passing second.

“Fuck.”

The boy laughed, and bounced in his sling. “Fuck,” he parroted, twice as high pitched and infinitely happier.

“ _Fuck_.”

Cor panted as he ducked under the Red Giant’s sword, too close for comfort. The boy (who he refused to name, on account of being completely, absolutely emotionally detached from) cried, and then wailed, and then the Giant exploded in a puff of dust. The boy quieted.

“What the fuck.”

When they finally arrived at a Haven, Cor pulled the boy’s wrist to him and examined it. It read, _N-iP0000-0000-0007._

It couldn’t be… how unlikely was that?

He bounced the boy on his knee some more, and resolved to think about it in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> \- ramuh and shiva are, like, the only chill gods  
> \- it took me so long to come up with that four line rhyme  
> \- cor definitely adopts prompto. of course he doesn't care. no way. he just needs to keep an eye on him, that's all.
> 
> God why is ao3 determined to fuck up my formatting?


End file.
